Seeing Julia Read Online Free PDF

she’s right at my bedside, pulling up a chair next to my bed and taking my hand and giving me a forced smile. Worry lines mar her beautiful face.
    Kimberley and I share Stephanie as our best friend. For five years, the three of us lived together, during our UCLA days with Bobby and again, in Manhattan after Bobby’s death, until I married Evan early last January. Then, Stephanie married Christian last summer.
    Evan. I’m brought back to my reality in an instant. I am here and my husband is dead. I glance at Stephanie as tears stream down my face.
    “Julia,” she says now. The soothing way she says my name serves as some kind of benediction that things are going to be okay without the perfunctory announcement. It causes me to cry even more. I try to smile through the tears, but fail. Things are so far from being okay.
    “Where am I? How did I get here?”
    “You’re at Lenox Hill. Do you remember what happened?”
    The distant memory of being picked up and put on a stretcher rushes forward. The memories of the potent aroma of rubbing alcohol mixed with the sterile scent of medications, the sensation of high speed, the inquisition of bright lights and all these frantic voices flood my mind. Bits and pieces of the puzzle come back to me. I remember taking the pills. I remember being in the hotel room. I remember the cold shower. I remember Jacob Winston. Oh. I remember. The guilt of kissing Evan’s best friend Jacob Winston and the grief of being Evan’s widow take turns with me, penetrating my soul. An intense need for Stephanie’s continual approval and self-dignity has me answering “no”. Stephanie looks at me in earnest. I think she wants to believe the lie I’ve told, but cannot quite reconcile my answer with what she actually knows to be true. “No, I don’t remember.”
    She nods, as if she’s made the decision for herself and plunges forward. “You’re suffering from…an overdose, Julia. Jake Winston found you and brought you here. You almost died. You would have died, if he hadn’t been there.” Fury erupts from her. Her anger is unusual. Stephanie is the serene one, the peacemaker among us, but today, on this day, she is livid, so irate that she doesn’t seem to know what to do. I watch her slide from my bedside and begin pacing the room.
    I cringe, inwardly preparing for the onslaught of judgment before I say, “I was sad. I didn’t know how many pills I took.” I don’t quite believe what I’m saying and note it’s having little impact on Stephanie’s belief systems either. She continues her back and forth ritual.
    “You took six times the dosage. Any more pills and you would have—” Her voice falters. “If he hadn’t been there…” I’ve never seen her get this upset before, especially with me.
    “Oh. I just wanted—” I cannot come up with a lie to explain the pills.
    “What, Julia? Were you trying to kill yourself? We’ve been so scared.” Stephanie sits down again and takes my hands in hers. The anger has worn her out. The diplomat is not used to the draining edge of such strong emotion. “We know it’s hard, almost unbearable, but Julia.” She stops for a moment and then, starts again, “We love you so much and if something had happened.” She starts to cry. “What about Reid? He needs you, Julia.”
    I have not really considered my seven-month-old son, not since the day Evan died. The grief just took me. I have not been able to really look at Reid for fear I would glimpse too much of Evan’s face in his features and literally break down. My son serves as a constant reminder of all that I’ve lost. Grief has had its way with me, breaking me apart. “I’m not…good for him.”
    “Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re the best mother, the best. We love you.”
    Her voice holds such conviction. I want to believe her.
    For a single moment, I’m thankful I’m still here among the living and Reid’s mother. Then, the moment is gone. How will I live